Thank You
by Kaisa
Summary: Young Sam and Dean are left alone one Thanksgiving night when John goes hunting, and for some reason, Sam wants to make a big deal about Thanksgiving...holidayfic


Hey everyone! Okay, sorry to the people who read Vanish, i WILL be updating once I get the chance!

Okay, this is a holiday oneshot for Thanksgiving. Please forgive me for posting this a little late, but as you can imagine, I've been pretty damn busy over the past few days.

I don't own Supernatural, but DAMN, if I did, there would be so much angst your head would fall off. (But I'm very content with Eric Kripke, lol)

Here we go!

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_(1992) _

"Happy Thanksgiving, Dean!" Sam exclaimed happily for about the billionth time that day, as he bounced through the motel room. He skidded to a stop at the desk in the corner, where Dean was working on some long overdue homework.

Dean rolled his eyes. He was already bothered enough with the fact that the pile of homework in front of him seemed to stretch to Beijing, but why did Sam have to insist on saying that to him so many times in a single day?

"Sammy," he began tightly, his eyes not leaving his paper, "I _know_ it's Thanksgiving—you won't let me forget."

Sam smiled brightly, either not noticing or completely ignoring Dean's apparent annoyance.

Ever since the last week—when Sam's class had made turkeys from cutouts of their hands—Sam had been the Thanksgiving happy-go-lucky kid. Before, it wasn't too bad. Dad would always stop Sam if he were interrupting Dean's work with constant reminders. Sam would prod Dean with small reminders, little ones that would only poke at the embers that was Dean's tolerance level. But now that Dad had gone hunting for the day, there was no one to tell Sam that Thanksgiving was a load of crap.

Dean rubbed his forehead tiredly, already feeling sick at the sight of the schoolwork that lay before him. "You hungry?" he finally asked.

Sam nodded.

"What do you want tonight? I can make Spaghetti-O's, or Ravioli, or macaroni and cheese… No grilled cheese tonight, okay?"

Sam shook his head, looking determined. "No, I want to make dinner tonight!"

Dean stared at him incredulously, a frown spread across his face. "That would be a first… Do you need any help?"

"No," Sam answered. "I can do it myself!" He seemed very confidant.

"It doesn't involve the oven, does it? Because you know what Dad says—"

"I _know! _'Don't use the oven, Sammy!" Sam cut him off, imitating their father's deep voice. "It's only a microwave thingy, I can do it."

Dean chewed the inside of his cheek for a second. There was no way Sam could get hurt using the microwave, right? Dad would _kill_ him if something happened to Sam… He finally looked up to Sam's pleading face and nodded. "Okay… Be careful, okay?"

"Okay!" And with that, Sam happily bounced over into the kitchen.

A few minutes later, Dean was called to the kitchen. As the teen seated himself, he couldn't help but smirk at Sam's proud smile.

"Here yah go!" Sam said, dropping a plate full of steaming food on the table in front of his brother. Some mashed potatoes sloshed over the edge of the plate and onto the table, drawing a small sigh from Dean.

Dean gazed at the food he had to eat. There on the plate lay turkey, chicken, or ham—Dean couldn't quite tell which—mashed potatoes, and mushy-looking carrots. Dean picked up his fork and stabbed it into the mystery meat. With a puzzled look, he held it up for closer inspection. "What's this?"

"It's turkey, dork! That's what people eat on Thanksgiving!" Sam replied indignantly, folding his arms across his chest.

Dean ate the piece of so-called turkey, chewed it slowly, and then swallowed it with some difficulty. "Uh, Sammy—one problem."

Sam's eyes widened at the thought of something not being right with his perfect dinner. "What?" he demanded.

"This"—Dean indicated the meat again—"is chicken."

Sam stared, his mouth falling open in disbelief. "No…it's turkey!"

Dean picked up the box that Sam had gotten from the freezer. "It says _Chicken Dinner: Now with Reduced Sodium!_"

"But…but…"

"Didn't you read the box before you picked it out?" Dean asked, confused. How could Sam _not_ see the big bold words that read _CHICKEN_?

"I-I… _Shoot!_" Sam spat, angry and upset that he had messed this up. He looked down sadly, feeling ashamed.

Dean shook his head to himself. Sam, when he had picked out the dinner at the grocery store, was apparently too blinded by excitement to even bother reading the label.

Sam kept his eyes cast downward. What kind of Thanksgiving would it be without turkey?!

Dean's saw his brother dejected expression and he felt some of his previous annoyance ebbing away. "Look," he began, trying to make Sam meet his eyes, "chicken is perfectly fine with me. I actually like chicken a lot more than turkey anyway."

"You do?" Sam asked hopefully, glancing up at him.

Dean nodded. "Totally."

"Great!" Sam exclaimed with a familiar bright smile, his earlier dilemma forgotten. Besides, the meat on his plate resembled a number of meats, so it wouldn't be too hard to imagine it being turkey.

After eating dinner in silence for several minutes, Dean put the dishes in the sink, mentally reminding himself to wash them after he was finished with homework.

"Okay, great… I'm going to do my homework now, okay, Sam? Go watch TV—I hear they're playing that Charlie what's-his-face Thanksgiving movie again."

Sam stayed seated, looking oddly serious for a nine-year-old. "No, Dean. There's something else I want to do for Thanksgiving. Can you sit back down?"

Dean cocked his head to one side. _Anything as long as it keeps me away from that damn homework…,_ he thought to himself as he seated himself once again. "What do we do now, Sammy?"

Sam smiled again. "I want to tell me what you're thankful for this year!"

Dean instantly frowned, unable to stop it. He vaguely remembered a Thanksgiving, many years before, when his mother had tucked him into bed and whispered long-remembered words in his ear.

_"I'm thankful for you, Dean,"_ she had whispered with a bright smile. _"I love you so much, sweetie._"

Dean's frown turned into a glare. "There isn't anything to be thankful for," he spat. _What am I supposed to be thankful for? For Mom's death? For what it did to Dad? For me being alive?_

Sam stifled a surprised gasp, Dean's harsh tone being the last thing he expected. He had inwardly taken a few guesses at what Dean would say, but this was far from it. He knew what _he_ was thankful for… But Dean was thankful for _nothing?_

Sam stood abruptly, his hopes for the perfect Thanksgiving shattered. His chair teetered and fell to the floor. "Thanksgiving is stupid!" he shouted, running from the room.

Dean, surprised, didn't even go after his brother at first. He looked down, feeling guilty. He shouldn't have said that. Thanksgiving was apparently very important to Sam, and Dean realized he should have just ignored his personal feelings and made it special for Sam…

He got up from his chair and quickly strode to the room that he and Sam shared. The door was only open a crack, and Dean's feeling of guiltiness only increased when he head Sam crying inside.

Dean eased open the door, seeing Sam with his face buried in his pillow. The youngest Winchester tensed as he sensed Dean's arrival, but didn't budge an inch. Dean slowly made it to Sam's bed, and sat down on the edge of it, beside his brother.

He placed a hand on Sam's back. "Sammy," he began, his voice low and tinged with regret, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—"

"I wanted it to be perfect…," Sam sniffed.

"I'm sorry," Dean apologized again. "I know that you've been excited about Thanksgiving this year ever since you made those paper turkeys in school, but…" He left his sentence hanging as Sam sat up and frowned at him.

"Huh? No, it wasn't the turkeys…," Sam murmured under his breath, not meeting Dean's face. "That's not why I wanted Thanksgiving."

Dean shook his head, confused. "Then why?"

Sam's hand reached under his pillow, and as he brought it out again he brought an old photo out with it. He gazed at it longingly for a long moment before handing over to Dean.

Dean took the picture. It was quite old, taken before Sam was even born. It showed their mother holding a three-year-old Dean, who proudly held up a small paper cutout of his hand that had been colored to look like a turkey.

"…Where did you find this?" Dean asked, his voice low and raspy.

"In Dad's journal," Sam answered, wringing his hands nervously. "I-I just wanted a happy Thanksgiving…like—like that one." He pointed to the picture.

Dean rubbed his face, handing back the picture, but not saying anything.

_"I'm thankful for you, Dean._"

"I thought on Thanksgiving, everyone was supposed to be thankful for something…anything. That's why it's called Thanksgiving, right? But you're not thankful for _anything!_" Sam cried. "I wanted you to be happy, like in the picture! I wanted to be happy too!" At these words, a few tears began to fall from Sam's face, and he started to use his sleeve to wipe them away.

Dean sighed and ruffled Sam's shaggy hair. "Ah, Sammy… I _am_ very thankful for something, okay?"

Sam looked to him with wide eyes. "Really? What? What is it?"

Dean gave him a small smile. "It's a secret."

Sam instantly scooted forward. "Whisper it to me!"

Dean leaned in closer to Sam, so he could whisper in his ear. "I'm thankful for _you_, Sammy."

Sam's eyes lit up, and he smiled in such a way that reminded Dean of their mother. Sam then took Dean by surprised by tackling him full on with a tight hug.

"I'm thankful for you too, Dean!"

"Dude, get off m-_eeeeee!_" The brothers fell from the bed, Dean landing hard on his back, and if that wasn't bad enough, Sam fell right on top of him.

"Ugh," Dean groaned, his back beginning to ache. "Get off…"

Sam jumped off his brother, and helped him up. He didn't seem fazed at all from the fall. His eyes still sparkled with happiness, and once Dean was on his feet, he hit his brother with another hug. "Happy Thanksgiving, Dean!"

Dean looked over Sam's shoulder to the picture on the bed. He could have sworn that Mary was smiling wider now than before. He shook his head and messed up Sam's hair. "Happy Thanksgiving, Sammy."

**_END_****_

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...I thought it was kinda cute...hmmmmmm...

Please let me know what you think :)

-Kaisa

(PS to readers of my other stories - Updates will be coming ASAP! Hopefully over Christmas break, which starts on the 11th! Updates for Escape and Vanish, and I MIGHT post another little part to Dark Places, due to a idea someone gave me...)


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